


a rose for a rose

by banesapothecary (komhmagnus)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, David Rose Deserves Nice Things, Don't @ Me, First Kiss, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Patrick Brewer is Gay, Secret Admirer, Secret Crush, We're not gonna talk about how much of this was me yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:14:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22520854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komhmagnus/pseuds/banesapothecary
Summary: Patrick had never looked at him this way before, soft and open and maybe a little concerned. Like he cared. “They’re for you,” Patrick said softly. “David, the flowers are for you.”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 34
Kudos: 239
Collections: Goshi Sprinkle Prompt Fics





	a rose for a rose

**Author's Note:**

> hello i got very sappy writing this pls enjoy
> 
> goshi prompt: secret admirer au

“What are those?” David asked as he stepped into the store, a coffee cup from the café pleasantly warm in his hand.

Patrick looked up from where he was filling out some form or another at the counter. His eyes darted to the small bouquet of roses sitting next to the cash register before meeting David’s eyes. “I think they’re flowers, David,” he said with eyebrows raised and eyes widened innocently.

David waved his free hand like he could smack Patrick’s smug, irritatingly attractive sarcasm out of the air. “But what are they doing _here_?”

“Other than ruining your sand and stone color palette?” Patrick asked.

David glared.

Patrick’s smile softened from shit-eating to something more sincere. “They were delivered right after you left. I’m surprised you didn’t run into the delivery man.

David rolled his eyes. “Who sent you flowers anyway?” he asked, wincing a little at how much it sounded like an accusation. He shifted not at all grumpily on his feet. He certainly was _not_ jealous about his business partner having someone in his life sending him romantic bouquets. David walked slowly to the counter, glaring daggers at the bouquet and ignoring Patrick’s smirk.

“Oh, they aren’t for me,” Patrick said casually. Too casually.

“Then who’re they for?” David asked, frowning as he set his coffee down. “They have to be for someone. Who the hell would send recipient-less flowers here?” He poked one of the bright red buds accusingly, like a minor punishment for their very existence.

“David.”

Patrick’s voice was quiet, so soft and intense. Something about his tone sent a sharp jolt through David. Sharp, but not unpleasant. Like an electric shock not high enough to leave a mark, but enough to leave his nerves chasing a ghost feeling.

He met Patrick’s eyes, willing himself not to study their exact shade and commit it to memory. (Not like he hadn’t done that already, anyways.)

Patrick had never looked at him this way before, soft and open and maybe a little concerned. Like he cared. “They’re for you,” Patrick said softly. “David, the flowers are for you.”

And the way Patrick said his name.

Maybe David had just never noticed before. He _did_ spend a lot of time trying not to let on how much he was into his probably straight, mid-range denim wearing, color blue obsessed business partner. _My friend_ , David thought. _He’s not just my business partner. He’s my friend._

Aside from Stevie, Patrick was the only real friend he had. He couldn’t afford to fuck this up, not after he nearly had with Stevie when they’d almost sold the town.

And then his rapidly overthinking brain caught up with Patrick’s words.

“What?” David managed to squeak out, cheeks reddening when Patrick huffed a laugh at the high pitch. “But—who?” He combed through the rosebuds in search of a card, careful not to stick himself with one of the thorns.

He made a noise of victory when he found a small, white card with simple black print.

_These are beautiful, but you’re the most beautiful Rose I’ve ever seen_ , the note read. David made another noise, then, this one entirely involuntary at the back of his throat. He wanted to roll his eyes at the cheesy line, but he couldn’t bring himself to even feign annoyance; his heart was too busy trying to fling itself out of his chest, and his brain was too busy trying to process the fact that someone thought he was beautiful.

David looked away towards the backroom as he tried to school his face back into submission. The wetness in his eyes didn’t want to cooperate, though, and eventually he gave up in favor of staring dumbfounded at the roses again.

With a gasp that was more an admonition to himself for not looking before, David searched the card for a name, a sign, _anything_ . But he found nothing. The sender was still entirely anonymous. He briefly thought about ripping his hair out, but he thought better of it. He would _not_ pull off that look.

He dropped the card to the counter in disappointment and stared helplessly at Patrick, who—

_Oh._ _Maybe._

Patrick was staring at him with a look that David could only describe as the personification of his tone before when he’d said David’s name. He was staring at David like he cared, like he thought David mattered. Like he thought David was beautiful.

Caught, Patrick looked down quickly at the already nearly forgotten card, and David swore he saw a tinge of pink invading his button cheeks. He watched a slow smile spread across Patrick’s face. “Looks like someone has a secret admirer,” Patrick said in his usually teasing voice. He looked up again, the blush—if it had even existed—already gone. David watched Patrick’s mouth twitch, just barely. The movement was infinitesimal, only noticeable because David had spent months pretending not to stare at Patrick’s lips. “Any, uh,” Patrick trailed off with a small cough. David raised an eyebrow, and Patrick’s cheeks turned pink again when they met eyes. “Any idea who sent them?”

His voice was casual, but in a forced sort of way that David knew all too well. He’d used that exact tone himself more times than he could count, always with the people he cared deeply about but worried or knew they didn’t care back. His eyes didn’t leave Patrick’s—no matter how desperately his body was begging him to run straight out the door—as he said as levelly as he could, “I might have an idea, but it’s probably completely out of left field.”

He watched in delight as Patrick’s eyes widened in surprise, mentally congratulating himself on using one of those sports clichés Patrick was so fond of correctly.

“I thought you didn’t know anything about cricket?”

David shrugged, an easy smile spreading slowly across his face. “I don’t. It must be contagious. I blame you.”

Patrick laughed.

“Do you,” David asked, mouth suddenly very dry. He paused, taking a sip of his coffee and closing his eyes briefly against the warmth. When he opened them, he caught a glimpse of something unreadable in Patrick’s face. David wanted to ask, _What are you thinking?_ Instead, he finished his other question. “Do you know who sent them?” He hated how hopeful he sounded, but now that he’d let himself entertain the thought, the hope wouldn’t stop growing inside him.

“No,” Patrick said quickly, voice a touch too loud. He shook his head. “I don’t, sorry.” He sounded more casual the second time around, but he looked like he was hiding something. Like something he wanted to say so badly was sitting on the tip of his tongue.

David remembered his mother telling him to lean in.

_Fuck it._

He was going to say it. _I like you._ He was going to ask. _Was it you?_

The bell chimed behind him as the door opened, sending a cool gust from the breeze outside into the store with the customer. David wanted to scream, wanted to tell the customer to come back later or never or just give them _five minutes goddamn it_ , but Patrick spoke before he could do any of those things. 

“Welcome,” he said in a cheerful voice, but his eyes never left David’s face. “One of us will be over to help you in a minute.” Patrick’s gaze dropped to the tax forms he’d been filling out and picked them up. “I’d better go finish these,” he said to David. “Can you help the customer?” he asked, not waiting for an answer before turning and disappearing into the backroom.

***

“If you want to head out, I can finish up here,” Patrick said. He didn’t look up from where he was balancing the register.

David frowned as he finished replenishing a shelf of the new hand cream they’d just introduced to the store. So far it had been hit, and he mentally congratulated himself on that fact, having negotiated the deal entirely.

After he was satisfied with the display, he spun around, studying the tense line of Patrick’s shoulders. Patrick had been avoiding him all afternoon, disappearing into the backroom whenever they were alone in the store and rushing to help a customer as soon as one stepped through the door. And he was avoiding looking at the flowers altogether, even though they were practically right in front of him. He probably thought David hadn’t noticed, but he had. He always noticed Patrick.

“No, I can stay,” David said slowly. He _did_ want to leave, though. He wanted to escape the thick tension between them that he couldn’t explain. He wanted to find Stevie and get drunk or high or both, wanted to run away from what he’d almost said to Patrick. To his business partner. his _friend._

Patrick still didn’t look up. “Really, David. It’s fine.” He sounded tired, almost annoyed.

David frowned, biting at his lower lip and kneading it between his teeth. He said nothing, staring at Patrick helplessly as his anxiety only increased. He stood rooted in place, until finally, _finally,_ Patrick looked up. 

“What?” Patrick asked, a defensive edge to his voice undercutting the exhaustion.

“Are you,” David asked, swallowing. “Are you okay?”

Patrick blinked, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m fine.” The words sounded forced and David resisted the urge to wince.

“Mm mhm,” David hummed, face scrunching up as he tried to smile. “It’s just that, you’ve been acting weird since I got the flowers, so.”

He expected Patrick to deny it, or offer an excuse. _I’m just tired,_ or something like that. But instead, Patrick sighed and his shoulders slumped.

"Patrick?"

"I sent them," Patrick said, voice so low David was convinced misheard. But then Patrick straightened his shoulders and met David's eyes with an unwavering gaze. "I sent you the flowers, David."

"Oh," David breathed, only partially aware of his own legs carrying him across the store. "So, you're...my secret, um, admirer?"

Patrick let out a small laugh, running a hand through his ridiculously short hair. "Yeah. Is...is that okay?"

David stopped at the side of the counter, overly aware that Patrick was close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss. He opened his mouth to say _Yes, yes of course it's okay,_ but Patrick spoke again before he could get a word out.

"I like you so much, David, and I wanted to tell you before, but," Patrick trailed off. "I'm sorry, this is probably out of left field and we're business partners and I don't wanna make this awkward, so maybe we can just forget about this—"

"I don't want to," David said quickly. "I don't want to forget." He nodded at the roses. "Thank you, I love them."

Patrick stared at him, mouth hanging open as if frozen mid-sentence. "And me?" he asked quietly, as though he was afraid of the answer.

"I'm not so good at...voicing emotions. Or having emotions, but that's not the point," David said. "The point is, you have a secret admirer, too."

Patrick smiled, relieved and bright. "I do?"

David nodded. "Mhm, for a while now."

Patrick took a step towards him, one finger tapping nervously on the counter. "Do you think...do you think my secret admirer might want to kiss me?"

"Oh, yes," David smiled. "There's nothing he would like more."

"Good to know," Patrick said, stepping closer into David's space. His hand hovered an inch from David's waist. "Is this okay?"

David nodded emphatically, placing his own hands on Patrick's shoulders. Patrick's eyes searched his for a moment, and David could read the nerves in his eyebrows.

He smiled softly, moving one of his hands to cup Patrick's cheek, and he leaned in. Patrick's lips were soft, and he tasted like mint gum they carried in the store. Suddenly it was David's favorite taste, with a slight, almost electric sting that's more pleasant than painful, and David was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the mint and everything to do with Patrick.

When they pulled apart, Patrick stared at him like he'd felt it, too. Like he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

David closed his eyes for a minute, needing to hide from that weight before he got overwhelmed. Crying right after the first kiss was _not_ a good look.

"Thank you," Patrick said softly.

"For what?" David asked, eyes flying open.

"For making that happen for us," he said. "I was really worried I was gonna let us leave today without saying anything. Without us having done that."

“Oh,” David said. “Thank you, too. For that. And saying something. And for the flowers.”

Patrick grinned. “I was worried you’d think it’s cliché to get roses for a Rose.”

“Mm, it is,” David hummed, “but it’s also incredibly sweet.”

Patrick was smiling at him like he was the goddamn sun again. It was almost too much. David had a feeling he would never get enough of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated 💖  
> Find me on Tumblr and Twitter @banesapothecary!


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